


Playing Santa

by CompanyPanda, PandaFalls



Category: OC House, The House at Panda Falls
Genre: Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPanda/pseuds/CompanyPanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the OC House, not a creature was stirring except for a Poet. And a couple of others too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Santa

**Author's Note:**

> All writing credit goes to CompanyPanda who let me post their work to this account.

Poet was still awake even after everyone else had gone to bed, as usual. As a demon, he didn't really need sleep, but he had gotten into the habit of it. And it was a wonderful habit. There really was nothing better than sleeping in late. But for the moment, Poet was hovering at the edge of the presents around their Christmas tree, looking over all the perfectly wrapped, and not so perfectly wrapped, presents. He smiled at that.

He could tell right away which ones Sigma had wrapped versus Violet or Erik or Barnaby. Even Athanas and Typhus. The two men out of time chose very elegant but plain wrapping paper. The Grecian had chosen a soft golden paper with faint ornate designs, and Typhus had chosen bold and red. All of Barnaby's gifts were in his signature purple color, so there was no mistaking those among the sea of greens, reds, golds and silvers. Some presents had bows, some had ribbon. There was one gift that wasn't wrapped traditionally, and it was from Barnaby to Typhus. Poet had watched him wrap it, having been quite interested at the time. It was a small box, probably a gift card taped to the inside or something, but it had three layers of duct tape, then about four layers of plastic pull-ties. There would be no way to open it unless Typhus had scissors.

Everyone else had been less childish, of course. The amount of gifts was a great turn out. Between his own money and Barnaby, everyone had at least ten gifts. Several weeks ago, Poet had used an excuse for something else to measure Michael for prosthetics, and with Sigma's connections, the veteran would have fully functional legs and arm. It had been Erik's idea. Even though they were all used to 'chopped liver' being in his natural state of no-limbs, he thought being able to walk around like the rest of them would be nice. Also, one of Erik's gifts was homemade gift cards for free dance lessons. So those would go hand in hand.

"Poet? What are you still doing up?"

The demon turned to find Athanas standing by the coffee table not five feet from him. How was that boy so damn quiet? He smiled warmly, shaking his head. "Nothing my sweet. Just... looking at the gifts. I had a few hidden in my closet I wanted to bring out. And what exactly are _you_ doing out of bed. Santa won't come if you're awake."  
Athanas perked up at that, excited for this Santa Claus to come try his honey bread. "I was just checking on the snacks." He said, kneeling by the coffee table to see the array they had laid out. Milk, whiskey, a glass of wine, cookies, honey bread, a gps from Sigma. Poet looked down as Athanas pushed cookies into other arrangements and made sure the glasses were still fresh. With that all sorted, he bowed to Poet and scurried back down the hall toward his room, the demon listening as the door quiet closed.

Poet looked back at their tree, the one that Barnaby and Typhus had worked together to bring back, how Sigma and Violet had worked on decorating it, and then everyone decorated it. Erik taught them how to make paper ornaments, and Michael showed them the tradition of stringing popcorn onto it. Most of it was munched off by now. Humans were so peculiar. This house was one compilation of strange individuals, and yet Poet, Sigma, Violet, they were... accepted. Erik and Michael were the most normal out of the whole house, and they treated everyone like they were old friends.

Poet sighed, turning back to the coffee table. He moved around it to sit down on the couch, picking up the wine glass and having a drink. He couldn't leave without traces of Santa having been here. Then, perhaps not ten minutes later, Barnaby was creeping out into the living room. He was surprised the Brit wasn't naked.

"Oi, what're yew doin' out here?"

"Playing Santa, what's it look like?" Poet said softly, patting the seat beside him. Barnaby shrugged and joined him, grabbing the glass of whiskey and a cookie, the two of them clinking their glasses together.

"I think V and Athanas are gonna figure it out eventually," Barnaby started, wiping crumbs from his beard. Poet raised a brow, glancing over at him over the rim of his glass. "Seriously, think about it. How t'fuck would a big fat guy in a red suit manage to break into a goddamn house with two soldiers, a state-of-the-art android, a demon, and a retired hitman? Like.. this would be the fuckin' _worst_ house for a robber," Barnaby said with a quiet laugh, covering his mouth.

Poet bit his lip, trying to hold in the laugh. Well, he had a point. "We'll tell them next year. For now, shut up and eat Violet's cookies."


End file.
